


Just When You Least Expect It (Just What You Least Expect)

by stew (julie)



Category: The Professionals (TV 1977)
Genre: Internalised Homophobia, M/M, Semi-retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1991-07-13
Updated: 1991-07-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:20:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22517650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/stew
Summary: Bodie and Doyle have quit Operations, and are now Assistant Controllers of CI5. While running a training course at an army base, they meet Michael Corbitt, a potential recruit for CI5 – who confesses to them that he’s gay. Bodie is perfectly OK with that, and they welcome Corbitt on board – but Bodie finds it increasingly difficult to accept the fact that he himself is already in love with his partner Doyle.
Relationships: William Bodie/Ray Doyle
Comments: 10
Kudos: 17





	Just When You Least Expect It (Just What You Least Expect)

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes:** The title is borrowed from the Pet Shop Boys, who were a constant source of inspiration (and occasional annoyance?) back in the day. 
> 
> **First published:** in my zine Homosapien #1 on 13 July 1991.

# Just When You Least Expect It  
(Just What You Least Expect)

♦

Doyle waited, the words on the tip of his tongue sounding strangely like part of a marriage ceremony: _Is there any reason why CI5 shouldn’t recruit you?_ Sitting at the desk beside Doyle, but with his feet propped up on another chair and his arms locked across his chest, Bodie silently fixed young Michael Corbitt with a blank stare that had intimidated far more experienced people on both sides of the fence. 

‘I’d really like the opportunity to work in CI5, sir,’ Corbitt said, the faintest touch of nervous eagerness showing behind the determination to stay cool. He swallowed hard, conscious of his army fatigues still grubby from the latest round of an assault course, a sloppiness that didn’t seem acceptable despite Doyle’s thrown-together civilian outfit, despite Bodie’s own well-worn fatigues. The silence lengthened, as if the two CI5 men were waiting for some cue from Corbitt. 

At last Doyle said, ‘We may be able to offer you a place on the next course. You understand that not everyone who goes through the training program ends up appointed…’ 

‘I know that – it’s the chance I’m after. I’ll prove myself.’ Corbitt laughed a little, sounding weak in his own ears. ‘I hear it’s a ninety percent drop-out rate.’ 

‘Not that bad.’ Doyle glanced at Bodie, a glint of humour relieving the forbidding seriousness just for a moment. ‘More like eighty percent.’ 

Corbitt realised that his leg was being pulled, but that only made the situation worse. These two, with their hard remoteness, their quicksilver expertise, their unpredictable bursts of crazy humour, their constant partnership that seemed ingrained in their every instinct – these two had made an impression on everyone at the army base from the Commanding Officer down. They were ostensibly there to help run a refresher training course, but Corbitt had soon realised that Doyle and Bodie were keeping an eye out for potential CI5 material, and this may be his one and only chance. While the CI5 men had been running rings around the platoon, and making it look easy despite being well over twice the age of the younger ones, Corbitt had put his heart and soul into simply keeping up with them – an effort that he now prayed had paid off. ‘Just the chance, sir,’ he said again, steeling himself to return Bodie’s damnable stare for a few long moments. 

‘Depends,’ was all Doyle would say, still waiting, covering the moments by flipping sightlessly through Corbitt’s service record. The young man was as near perfect for placement in CI5’s training program as any he and Bodie had recruited over the past six months – Corbitt had all the physical and intellectual skills needed, and had demonstrated plenty of initiative and cunning along with all the other personal traits required. It took an odd blend of respect and ruthlessness to make a CI5 operative, a combination of qualities so rare that the Squad was always understaffed. It would be a pity to lose this one. 

‘There’s something you should know,’ Corbitt finally said. ‘Before you make any offers.’

‘What’s that?’ Doyle asked absently, eyes still on the file before him. 

Corbitt swallowed hard. ‘I’m gay, sir. Homosexual.’

Bodie and Doyle shot each other a hard look that Corbitt tried desperately and in vain to read. ‘Well, in that case,’ Bodie said with an edge of humour, ‘welcome to CI5.’ 

‘What?’ 

Doyle flashed Corbitt a wolfish grin. ‘If you weren’t up front about it, you were out of the running.’ 

‘Christ!’ Corbitt cried out. He pushed back in his chair to stand, turned to take a couple of steps, ran his hands back through his hair. ‘I thought I’d blow it for sure if you knew. Like, damned if I told you, and damned if I didn’t.’ 

‘No, old son,’ Bodie said, amused. ‘You’re not blackmailable material – that’s all we care about.’ 

‘And your honesty,’ Doyle added. 

‘Must have been discreet if the army hasn’t dishonourably discharged you yet,’ Bodie observed. 

‘Discreet, yeah. Have been and will be.’ 

‘Good…’ Doyle said dryly. He began bundling up the papers and files. ‘Our recruitment unit will be in touch – the usual letter, a formal offer of placement, dates of the next training program, and all the rest. Come over tonight after dinner, and we’ll run through the basics.’ 

‘Yes, sir.’ Then Corbitt suddenly asked, ‘How did you know I was gay?’ He looked from one CI5 man to the other. ‘I haven’t told anyone here.’ 

‘Your CO spilled the beans,’ Doyle said. ‘Think he was afraid we were poaching you.’ 

‘And he was right.’ Bodie grinned at Corbitt’s confusion. ‘Didn’t you know COs are telepathic?’ 

♦

One of the few joys of their stay at the army base, as far as Doyle was concerned, was the free run he and Bodie were given of the officers’ gym facilities. ‘I know what I’m putting in a requisition for when we get back to HQ,’ Doyle grumbled to his partner as he once more eyed the state of the art equipment. 

‘Just because ours looks shabby doesn’t mean it doesn’t do the same work,’ was Bodie’s reply.

‘Stop being so damn practical.’ 

‘You know what Papa George would say –’ And they chorused in a consummate imitation of Cowley’s accent and severity, ‘CI5 is on a limited budget, Doyle.’ 

‘Which not only means shabby gym equipment,’ Doyle concluded, ‘but shabby salaries as well.’ 

‘Quit complaining – we got a salary increase six months ago. It’s enough.’ 

‘Yeah, when we became Administration. Doesn’t seem fair, does it? Less danger than Operations…’ 

‘And more responsibility,’ Bodie added flatly, cutting the conversation short. 

The pair did a quick warm-up, then Doyle fitted himself into a contraption that exercised his inner thighs. At forty years old, he was still limber enough to ease his legs apart to an almost one-eighty degree angle, though it took a grimace for him to force them back in against the weights. Bodie watched him for a while, amusement quirking his lips. ‘You’d better not let young Corbitt see you doing that. He’d jump your bones.’

Which was virtually what Bodie did anyway, Doyle reflected while scrambling from one sweaty hold to another in their usual post work-out wrestle. These matches were always initiated by Bodie, but Doyle had no complaints. The simple touch of this particular human being was something he’d grown to treasure over the years, Bodie tumbling him constantly out of his hard-won, bitterly protected independence, so that Bodie was closer to him than he’d ever planned. Anyone else… Doyle had learnt the hard way not to depend on anyone else, male or female. All those phrases – _under my skin, my other half_ – Doyle had grown to understand solely through his partner. It rarely bothered him that Bodie had got through to him more completely than any woman ever had – he put it down to the demands of being a CI5 operative, the priorities that work forced upon him – and with Bodie, of course, the demands and priorities never divided them. It amused Doyle, though, that the only way either of them expressed all the emotion they had for each other was through aggressive confrontation. If it wasn’t the bitten humour they launched at each other, the ludicrous insults, it was the permissible physicality of these wrestling matches. 

Then, figuratively throwing in the towel and letting Bodie pin him from shoulder to thigh against the mat, Doyle thought, _This is not the only way_. There was the matter of Bodie following him without demur six months ago when Doyle, on turning forty, had decided that it was time to quit pushing his luck and get in off the streets. Doyle had talked himself hoarse the night he’d told Bodie of his plans, trying to explain something to his partner that Doyle himself had thought he’d understood but for which he couldn’t quite find the right words. And finally Bodie had simply said, _‘All right, sunshine. Needn’t think you’re doing this alone.’_ And that was all he’d said, then or since. 

‘Loser buys the beer,’ Bodie said now, still sprawled across Doyle. 

‘There’s still a six-pack in the fridge,’ Doyle reminded him. ‘That’ll do you.’ 

Bodie shook his head in mock despair. ‘Scrooge.’ He stood, held out a hand to help Doyle up. ‘That’s our allowance of rough and tumble for the day,’ Bodie quipped. Doyle cast him a long look. 

The pair were silent while they showered and changed, while they headed for the officers’ mess for the evening meal. Silent, that is, until Bodie saw something he loved talking about. Fork full of food waving to capture Doyle’s attention, Bodie declared, ‘I adore women in uniform.’ 

Doyle followed his gaze to the two young and pretty lieutenants who were collecting a meal from the servery. ‘The question is, could _they_ adore a dirty old man?’ 

‘Don’t know, mate – you could try your luck.’ 

‘Prat! I was referring to you,’ Doyle retorted. 

Bodie quirked an eyebrow at him. ‘You’re definitely older than me, Raymond, and I’ve no doubt dirtier, too. Me, I’m a man of simple though lively tastes…’ 

‘Simple is an adequate description, and not just of your tastes.’ Doyle looked up and smiled at the familiar spark of challenge in Bodie’s eyes. ‘What about that lance-corporal you were all over on the assault course today? You’re old enough to be her father. Be going for jailbait next, mate.’ 

‘Takes a young one to keep up with me.’ 

Doyle almost choked. ‘Starting your mid-life crisis a little early, aren’t you?’ 

‘Don’t let the grey hairs fool you,’ Bodie declared. ‘There’s still plenty of fire in the furnace.’ 

‘Yeah, and you’d really use that line on them, wouldn’t you?’ 

‘Why not?’ Bodie shrugged. ‘It’s worked before.’ 

‘Someone’s got to give you some original dialogue, mate.’

‘Why change now when I’m having so much fun?’ 

Doyle shot him a grin, but lapsed back into his thoughts. 

After a moment, Bodie asked, ‘What’s up?’ 

‘Later,’ Doyle dismissed him with. 

‘Later,’ Bodie agreed, and returned to his dinner. Once they were settled in the house on the base that was theirs for the duration, feet up and beer in hand, Bodie tried again. ‘What’s been bothering you?’ 

Doyle eyed him sourly and took a long pull of beer before saying, ‘Miss being first in the firing line, don’t you?’ At Bodie’s uncaring shrug he added, suddenly fierce, ‘Got to talk about it, Bodie.’ 

‘Maybe I miss it,’ the man said, a little sullen, ‘maybe I don’t.’ 

‘We’ve paid our dues. It’s someone else’s tum to front the danger. They owe us a little –’ Doyle snorted sarcastically. ‘I was going to say peace. Respite, maybe.’ 

‘Who owes us?’ Bodie queried in disbelief. 

‘The people we put ourselves through hell for. Cowley. Joe Public. They don’t know the half of what they owe us.’ 

‘I did it for me, mate.’ 

Doyle eyed his partner for a long moment. ‘You stopped fooling me five minutes after I first met you.’ 

Bodie sighed. Then he said lightly, ‘Didn’t think I’d ever get this far, take the time to ease up a little. Haven’t fired a shot in the heat of it for over three months, you realise.’ 

‘I know you miss it,’ Doyle insisted. 

‘Hell, it’s more fun planning for our retirement. Where’s it going to be? Rio for a while, I reckon. Then maybe buy our own Pacific island. Find that peace you want.’ 

‘You’d be bored stupid! You’re bad enough on two weeks’ leave, let alone forever. Can’t see you slowing down _that_ much.’ 

‘Well, if you’re going to insist on keeping my hide hale and hearty, your reward will be having to deal with me in my ugly and cantankerous old age. Life certainly isn’t turning out the way I pictured it, sunshine.’ 

Doyle laughed. ‘You pictured you’d be young, fast and gorgeous for all time. Like an amoral Peter Pan, loaded Browning in one hand and a bird in reach of the other.’ 

‘Knew I’d stop a bullet one day. While I was still young, fast and gorgeous.’ 

‘What did you want – a blaze of glory?’ 

Bodie grimaced. ‘Wasn’t going to happen that way. Just the two of us trying to take some anonymous low life in, a random bullet that got through despite us being the best, despite you covering me. Some sordid little case. And you left wondering why the hell it had happened then, why not something big at least, a case that might make it all seem worthwhile.’ 

‘Christ, Bodie.’ Doyle gazed across at his partner, stunned by the bleak words. ‘Don’t you dare do that to me.’

But Bodie smiled coolly. ‘Less likely to now, aren’t I? You pulled us out of the firing line.’ 

‘Don’t blame me for it,’ Doyle flared at him. ‘You had your choice.’ 

‘No point in breaking in a new partner at my age.’ 

‘And you’re already bloody bored, despite everything we do, all the operations we run. The danger is still there, hotshot – it’s just not quite close enough for you, is it? You’re not risking death every minute of every damn day anymore. Is that the only way that you knew you were alive?’ 

‘Shut up, Doyle, you’re getting monotonous.’ 

‘No – I want to know, I want to hear it.’ 

‘Hear what?’ Bodie asked wearily. 

‘That you weren’t ready to leave Operations yet, that I forced it because I’m older than you.’ 

‘It was the only option, and you know it! Christ, come off the guilt trip, Doyle. If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be out there soldiering on, just counting the seconds until that bullet found me. I wouldn’t have thought about getting in out of the heat.’ 

‘Exactly my point.’ 

‘If it wasn’t for you,’ Bodie continued, overriding Doyle’s interjection, ‘that bullet would have found me years ago. Lost count of the number of times you saved my life. You’re just doing it again. One long last time.’ 

‘Saving your life so that you can be bored and miserable…’ 

‘Your imagination is working overtime, sunshine.’ 

Doyle shook his head. He leant forward to say, ‘We made it this far, mate, and we still have an edge, but for how much longer? I didn’t want to suddenly realise we’d lost it, when we were in the middle of an operation.’ 

‘Shut up, Ray,’ Bodie said quietly. ‘You’re preaching to the converted.’ The two gazed across at each other for a while, the sporadic anger between them slowly defusing. And Bodie said again, ‘You’re not doing this alone.’ 

‘No, I’m not.’ Doyle offered a small ironic smile. ‘Never alone now, am I? Couldn’t be even if I wanted.’ 

‘You still think it was the right thing to do?’ 

‘Yeah,’ Doyle said, with no hesitation. ‘You’re not going to stop that bloody bullet, Bodie.’ Then he let out a groan. ‘It’s not over yet, though – I hate to think of the number of times some maniac has taken a pot-shot at Cowley over the past few years.’ 

Bodie laughed. ‘Does all this keep you awake at night, sunshine? Come on, stop beating yourself up. The only thing you’ve got to worry about is that you’ve saved my life so that I can lose my looks. You’re going to pay for that.’ 

Doyle grimaced at him. ‘I just don’t want –’ But even now, Doyle couldn’t come out and say it in cold blood. _I don’t want to lose you._ Even though Bodie knew it as well as he did. 

‘I don’t want to lose me either,’ Bodie murmured, so softly and fondly that Doyle took a moment to realise exactly what he’d said.

‘Prat,’ he complained. But Doyle looked across at his partner, at the challenging blue eyes, at the wryly affectionate smile that was never squandered on anyone else, and a tenderness grew in Doyle that he hadn’t felt since – No, he’d only ever felt this way for Bodie. No one else mattered in quite the same way. And Bodie, as usual, had mirrored his thought patterns and arrived at the same place. The two simply stared at each other. ‘Must be something in this beer,’ Doyle finally quipped. 

‘Have another one,’ Bodie said. And, despite knowing he looked a little apologetic and foolish, he let his smile grow. Then Bodie’s eyes flicked away and the smile turned to a grimace as a knock sounded at the front door. He stood, paused for a long moment near his partner. 

Doyle lifted his head to meet Bodie’s gaze again, unable to shrug off the seriousness, or push away the unwanted vulnerability. ‘That’s probably Corbitt,’ he observed. 

‘Yeah, sunshine.’ And Bodie reached out to caress his face before walking away to answer the door. 

Shaken, Doyle swallowed down the last of his beer. Bodie was part of his life, part of _him_ , meant more to him than anything except life itself – that was all accepted fact. As for actually thinking that over, for dwelling on all the finer feelings that that implied, for letting Bodie see into his heart in the strange moment that had just passed between them – it simply wasn’t what Doyle was used to. The familiarity of their abusive taunts was more than enough. 

He looked up to see Bodie following Michael Corbitt through to where Doyle sat in the lounge room. ‘We’ve a visitor,’ Bodie stated the obvious. 

‘Want a beer?’ Doyle asked, trying to ignore Bodie’s expression of bright-eyed, teasing fondness and his own unthinking response to it. 

‘Don’t give him any of that,’ Bodie cut in. ‘There’s something in it, remember? Never know what might happen.’ 

Doyle shot his partner a withering glance and went to collect three fresh cans. 

♦

Doyle crouched by the window of the abandoned farm shed, senses alert for any sign of pursuit. After a couple of minutes he turned and sat back against the wall, close to Bodie. ‘Not a whisper.’ 

‘Give the boy a chance,’ Bodie protested. Then he laughed. ‘In fact, I give Corbitt another thirty minutes. And the rest of them an hour.’ 

‘Twenty minutes for Corbitt.’ 

‘Ten pounds says thirty.’ 

‘Done.’ Doyle turned his head, favoured Bodie with a lazy smile. ‘A fool and his money…’ 

‘Those two false trails I laid are going to hold the lad up,’ Bodie said confidently. ‘I hope,’ he added. 

Doyle chuckled, still smiling at his partner. ‘Your trails are always too obvious. Subtlety was never your long suit.’ 

Bodie returned Doyle’s smile, eyelids sweeping down to shade the blue gaze. ‘Can be subtle at the right time,’ Bodie murmured.

Appreciation of the man’s sensuality hit Doyle like the shock wave of an explosion. _Don’t_ , Doyle tried to say, but he was paralysed by Bodie’s slow regard. He wondered if Bodie was at all aware of the effect he was having. 

‘Can be exquisite when required,’ Bodie was promising him, serious behind the humour. 

Doyle was unable to tear his eyes away, unable to stop the man seeing right through to that growing aching tenderness that had taken over Doyle’s heart. _Don’t let this happen. Don’t do this to me._

Not hearing the silent plea, Bodie again reached to stroke Doyle’s face, palm against his cheek, fingers pushing into his hair. Which was shocking. Bodie often touched him – from a friendly hand on a shoulder, even Doyle’s waist, his hip, through to the rough familiarity of their wrestling matches – but nothing so intimate as this. 

And, blindly following some instinct, Doyle found himself turning into the caress, brushing Bodie’s palm with his lips. Bodie’s expression slipped into a quiet happiness. He ran a thumb lightly across Doyle’s mouth, he murmured, ‘Ray…’ 

‘Don’t.’ Doyle found his voice. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ 

‘Too late, sunshine.’ Bodie broke into an uncomplicated smile. ‘I thought that this was meant to hurt,’ he observed, letting his hand fall to lie easily on his partner’s thigh. 

Doyle looked suspiciously for a hint of Bodie’s habitual smugness, but he could find none. He said impatiently, ‘What is it that you think you’re doing, you great moron?’ 

But neither of them were fooled by Doyle’s words. Bodie began to slide his hand up Doyle’s thigh, and Doyle grabbed at it, ostensibly to halt its progress, then held Bodie’s hand in his. The pair sat for a while, content with the undemanding contact. 

Corbitt burst in on the tableau. His triumphant expression became a surprised gape, and a long moment stretched by. ‘It all makes sense now,’ Corbitt finally said. ‘You two are gay, aren’t you?’ 

‘Not yet,’ Doyle said dryly. ‘But it seems that we’re working on it.’ 

Bodie snatched his hand back, stood and took a step away, shooting a confused glare at his partner. ‘You’re not meant to be here for another ten minutes, Corbitt,’ he snapped.

Doyle just grinned. ‘I win – you owe me a tenner.’ 

Complaining, ‘A fool and his bloody money,’ Bodie dug into his back pocket for his wallet. He dropped a note by Doyle’s feet and stalked away, stood at the door to wait for the other soldiers they’d invited on this field exercise. 

Tucking the money into a pocket, Doyle looked up at Corbitt. ‘You did well, mate. Don’t mind his temper.’ 

‘The second false trail took me in,’ Corbitt offered. 

‘Hear that, Bodie?’ 

‘Sorry,’ Corbitt muttered to Doyle after a moment’s silence. ‘I didn’t mean to walk in on anything.’ 

‘It’s all right,’ Doyle replied loudly enough for Bodie to hear. ‘Bodie’s never been part of a minority before. Takes some getting used to.’

Corbitt thought about this. ‘Would have thought CI5 qualified. Hired killers, that’s what the public see you as.’ 

Bodie looked over, a defiant set to his mouth. ‘We’re not a minority in CI5 – we’re the elite.’ 

Laughing, Doyle said, ‘No, Corbitt has a point. So why are you signing your soul away to the devil, Corbitt?’ 

‘Because Bodie has a point. Aim for the best.’ He hunkered down by Doyle. ‘That’s what I want to be.’ 

♦

Doyle lay awake, listening to Bodie prowling around the next room. When he’d first heard Bodie get up, Doyle had both feared and wanted the man to come to his room, make a try for his bed. It was only when Bodie didn’t, that Doyle decided he’d wanted that more than feared it. And his gut reaction to that was disgust – his instinct for self-preservation was slipping. Letting Bodie worm even further into his mind, his emotions and loyalties, would not be the most intelligent move Doyle had ever made. 

The whole thing did, however, make some sort of perverse sense to Doyle. The two of them were already so close to each other, like comrades, like brothers. It almost seemed inevitable that at some stage the urge would be there to express that closeness differently, to let their emotions grow further, to be together like lovers. Until he’d realised all the implications, Bodie had been falling for his partner as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Doyle envied and regretted that innocence. 

But now they each found themselves in a situation neither wanted. 

Doyle trusted Bodie, trusted him with his life, his health, his sanity. The only other people he could come close to trusting in the same way were George Cowley and Patrick Murphy. But Doyle couldn’t make that final surrender to Bodie, trust Bodie with that last part of himself, give in to the tenderness that was swamping him. It was an impossibility. It was what had failed him in so many other relationships. 

Doyle lay quiet as Bodie’s restless prowling headed towards the lounge room and kitchen. He realised that if either of them were to get any sleep that night, he’d better talk the man down. Doyle stole out of bed, let himself silently out of his room. It was a few minutes before Bodie noticed him, still in the shadows of the hallway. 

‘Ray…’ Bodie whispered hoarsely. 

‘What is it?’ 

‘I can’t do this.’ 

Doyle was immediately irritated. ‘I bloody well can’t either, you dumb crud.’ 

But Bodie didn’t pause as he walked up to Doyle. And they were suddenly, shockingly in each other’s arms like they’d found sanctuary. 

‘I don’t even know what’s happening,’ Bodie said into the darkness and warmth of Doyle’s embrace. 

‘Yes, you do – we’re falling for each other. Or have fallen. It was something in the beer, remember?’ 

‘I don’t want it.’ But he tightened his arms convulsively around the trim, familiar form of his partner. 

‘It’s a bit late to worry about that now,’ Doyle observed. 

‘I can’t do it,’ Bodie said again.

‘Why the hell not?’ Doyle snapped. 

Bodie stepped back to hold the man at arm’s length. ‘Why the hell can’t _you?’_ he demanded. 

‘You tell me – you’re the one who’s wearing down the carpet.’ Doyle added, ‘And make it the truth while you’re at it.’ 

Looking at his partner in blank surprise, Bodie said, ‘I’ve never once lied to you, Ray Doyle.’ 

‘That so? What is it, then? I’m not an attractive enough proposition?’ 

‘No! I’m just not – I don’t want to tum queer in my old age.’ 

‘That’s such a dreadful thing to happen, is it?’ 

‘Stupid question, Doyle.’ 

‘I don’t understand you.’ 

‘You have a better reason for not wanting it?’ Bodie taunted, fingers tightening to dig into Doyle’s shoulders. 

‘I don’t give anyone that much of myself. Not even you.’ 

‘Sounds like a bigger problem than mine.’ 

Doyle scowled and turned away, shrugging off Bodie’s hands. ‘So where do we go from here?’ he muttered to himself. 

‘Nowhere.’ As Doyle turned to face him, disbelieving, Bodie shook his head and repeated, ‘Nowhere.’ 

‘You can just pretend this never happened? Ignore whatever it is you’re feeling?’ 

‘Can’t you?’ Bodie asked scornfully. 

Doyle walked away, hunched into himself. The future suddenly looked amazingly bleak. To have to draw away from Bodie in denial, to lose that closeness that he’d fought against, fought _for_ over the past twelve years. ‘No,’ he said. And he faced Bodie again, drew a deep breath before finally saying it: ‘I don’t want to lose you.’

‘We can ignore it, and it won’t change a thing. In a few days you’ll be wondering what on earth made you think you felt that way for me.’ At Doyle’s sceptical look, Bodie added as if explaining to an idiot, ‘How long did your first crush in high school last?’ 

‘Two years,’ Doyle said defensively. 

Bodie cast an exasperated glance heavenward and changed tack. ‘You wouldn’t be losing me.’ 

‘I would – we’d never be as close again.’ 

‘You don’t want anyone that close,’ Bodie pointed out, still in excessively reasonable tones. 

‘Whether I like it or not, you’re closer to me than anyone else has ever been.’ 

Bodie stared at him. ‘There’s a solution to that.’ 

‘No!’ Doyle cried out angrily. ‘Christ, don’t threaten me, Bodie. I told you I don’t want to lose you, and I meant it. I meant all of it. That’s a reason to do this.’

‘You’re arguing _for_ it now, are you?’ Bodie demanded. 

‘It’s my only chance – not even my last chance, my _only_ chance. It would be impossible with anyone else.’ 

‘Chance for what?’ Bodie asked guardedly. 

‘Love,’ Doyle said, and turned away feeling like an absolute fool. ‘That’s one thing you’ve had that I haven’t. Marikka, the girl you and Krivas fought over –’ 

Bodie broke in – ‘They’re all dead.’ 

‘I’ll risk it.’ 

‘What about Ann Holly then?’ 

There was silence for a long moment, then Doyle said, ‘I tried, Bodie, I really did. Maybe she knew that all along. I didn’t realise until afterwards.’ He looked around at his partner, unaware of the pleading evident in his expression. 

Bodie swallowed hard. ‘Anyway, I’m not turning queer just to give you a chance at Happy Ever After.’ 

Doyle bit back immediately. ‘What the hell _is_ it with you and your prejudices? Tell me what you’ve got against homosexuals.’ 

‘Got nothing against them, and don’t intend to,’ Bodie said, smirking wryly at his own innuendo. ‘It’s nothing personal. Just not my thing.’ 

‘You don’t think being gay makes Corbitt less of a man, do you? Still think he’s CI5 material?’ 

‘That’s not the point.’ 

‘It’s exactly the point.’ 

‘The point is – it’s just not in me.’ 

‘You’ve had it drummed into you night and day that it’s wrong, haven’t you?’ 

Bodie nodded once, curtly. 

‘And nothing more than that? You can think through it, you don’t have to be tied to what you’ve been told. Face it, even your racism is a sham these days. Cowley’s seen to that.’ 

‘I can’t do it,’ Bodie repeated stubbornly. 

Doyle felt hurt stab through him at the defeat he hadn’t really believed possible. ‘You bastard,’ he whispered. ‘After all I’ve just offered you?’ 

Bodie watched him for a long moment. ‘You had the right idea, sunshine,’ he said gently. ‘Don’t let anyone get close, then they can’t hurt you.’ 

‘Yeah. Pity I let you get to me,’ Doyle observed clinically. ‘Still, there’s a solution to that.’ 

‘Ray…’ The pain haunting Doyle’s face was suddenly too much for Bodie. He had spent twelve years looking after this man, his partner better than he had looked after himself, only to now abuse the privilege of winning a monopoly on Doyle’s affection. ‘Ray,’ he murmured again, walking towards him.

As before, they found themselves without volition deep in each other’s arms, holding on as if to life itself. And Bodie found that it was easy to protect the man in his embrace, the man he had risked life and limb for, disobeyed Cowley for. 

‘We’ll try it,’ Bodie said. 

‘Are you sure?’ Doyle leant back to look at his partner. He could only read anxiety behind Bodie’s determination. 

‘No,’ was the reply. But then Bodie bent his head and captured Doyle’s mouth with his in an intense kiss. Bodie discovered that was easy, too. Though he was aware with every nerve ending that this was a man he was loving, he was also fully aware that it was Doyle, it was his partner’s strangely familiar body moulded closely to his own. And he could feel that his kiss was salving Doyle’s hurt, filling him with a long denied warmth. It had always been easy to love Doyle, after all, Bodie reflected – though liking his irascible, quirky, conscience-ridden partner had sometimes been a trial. 

Eventually Doyle broke away from the kiss. Bodie stayed still under his interrogative gaze, and returned the examination. Doyle’s breath was short, his expression dazed. Bodie’s imagination filled in the details that the night hid – the soft flush of Ray’s face, the bright unfocussed glow of his eyes. They had shared more than a few double dates in their time together, many that had ended with a heavy groping session in someone’s lounge room, some that had ended with more in someone’s bedroom. Bodie could recall every last detail of an aroused Doyle, could remember exactly what Doyle liked done to him and where.

It was easy then to lead Ray Doyle to his bed, to undress him, to lie beside him and bring him to a feverish climax with hand and mouth. 

Doyle clung to him afterwards, surprised and full of an overpowering vulnerability. ‘What on earth did you just do to me?’ he eventually asked, mock serious. 

‘Good, was it?’ 

‘You know it was.’ Doyle added without rancour, ‘You smug bastard.’ He somehow found the energy to lift himself up on an elbow to look at Bodie who was, dauntingly, still fully dressed. ‘Trouble is I don’t know if you’ve left me with the wherewithal to return the favour.’ 

‘It’s all right,’ Bodie said softly. ‘Go to sleep.’ 

‘Come off it. If you were even half as turned on as me, you must be dying of –’ Doyle’s words faded abruptly as his hand reached its destination. Bodie’s cock was very obviously quiescent, and didn’t stir even as Doyle cupped cock and balls close through the cloth of his trousers. ‘Bodie…?’ 

The man’s breath caught for a moment. ‘I can’t,’ Bodie whispered into the darkness. 

Doyle swore, sitting and drawing his partner up into his embrace. ‘I really forced this on you, didn’t I?’ 

‘It’s all right, Ray,’ Bodie repeated, clinging to Doyle’s naked waist and listening to his heartbeat. He whispered, ‘Love you.’ 

Doyle’s arms tightened. ‘I know, sunshine.’ After a moment he asked, ‘Can I stay here tonight?’ 

‘Yeah.’ 

‘Let’s get these off you, then.’ He undressed Bodie almost impersonally, then lay still as Bodie arranged the quilt over them both. Bodie turned towards him, gathered him up close. And Doyle said into the darkness, ‘I trust you, Bodie.’ 

♦

Doyle woke to the feel of expert hands skimming across him, to the feel of Bodie’s comfortable body cradling him. He gasped and arched back against his partner as fingers and thumb toyed for a moment with a nipple. ‘What are you doing?’ Doyle managed to ask. The wandering hand reached to palm his balls. Doyle’s cock, already swollen, strengthened. 

‘I’m waking you up,’ was Bodie’s eventual reply. He concentrated wholly on the body in his arms, learning to play on its every response in much the same way as he’d painstakingly learned to play the guitar. The difference was in the mercurial reactions he could provoke from Doyle, in the spell of rapt satisfaction under which Bodie had unknowingly fallen. In loving Doyle, it seemed, he was already an expert. Physically, he still felt numb, but that had ceased to worry him. Mentally and emotionally, it was the most stimulating experience he’d ever had. Doyle in full, potent arousal had to be experienced by all five senses to be believed. Bodie murmured, ‘God, you’re beautiful, Ray.’ 

Doyle let out a laugh. ‘I’m not. But we’ll argue about that later. Meanwhile –’ 

‘Don’t talk.’ 

For a long while, Doyle was incapable of doing more than concentrate on Bodie’s gently exploratory caresses, but he finally returned to what he’d been going to say. ‘This isn’t fair, Bodie. Not when you’re not getting anything out of it.’ 

‘Wouldn’t be doing it if I wasn’t enjoying it.’ 

‘You know what I mean.’ When he didn’t get a reply, Doyle tried again. ‘I don’t want this until you’re ready for it, too.’ 

‘Shut up, Ray.’ 

‘I mean it – no more.’ Doyle sighed as Bodie’s hands continued their meandering path. ‘All right – no more after this time.’ 

Bodie chuckled, and carefully began to build the man towards climax. 

‘Do you –’ Doyle gasped, ‘do this to yourself? – You’ve been practising!’ he accused. 

‘This is much nicer than masturbating,’ Bodie drawled. 

‘Christ!’ Doyle cried out as he was inexorably led to orgasm. He fell asleep again in the peace afterwards, and Bodie folded his partner close. 

♦

‘You are beautiful, you know.’ 

Doyle glanced across at his partner stretched out comfortably in the car’s passenger seat. ‘You’ve got all the beauty in this outfit. Me,’ Doyle added with a grin, ‘I’ve got all the brains.’

Bodie laughed. ‘Distracting me by appealing to my vanity won’t help, mate. You’re beautiful.’ 

‘It’s going to be a long drive home, I can tell.’ Doyle sighed. ‘You’ve called me ugly often enough,’ he pointed out. ‘And it’s true, whether you’re currently under the influence of a crush or not.’ 

Bodie’s laugh turned to a chuckle. ‘As ugly and as tempting as sin, that’s you. At least you won’t argue about your body, will you? It’s perfect.’

‘It’s OK,’ Doyle allowed. ‘That seems to be what’s got them interested over the years.’ 

‘Christ, Doyle, you’re stubborn. What do I have to do to convince you? Isn’t falling for you enough?’ 

‘I’m still under fifty, warm, and I come across. That’s all you said you need – the face doesn’t matter, does it?’ 

‘You’re crazy. I’ve never had anyone protest at me calling them beautiful before. Sometimes the opposite.’ 

‘You take me as I am,’ Doyle said, suddenly fierce. ‘Don’t delude yourself into thinking I’m something I’m not.’ 

Bodie just regarded him for a long moment. ‘You’re the one who’s deluded, sweetheart.’ 

‘That so?’ Doyle demanded. 

Bodie chuckled. ‘I’ll take you just the way you are.’ He slid a hand over to Doyle’s thigh, and settled back again with a smile on his face. ‘Wake me up when it’s time to stop for dinner,’ he said. 

♦

Doyle kept his eyes strictly on the road, driving scrupulously through the London traffic, his excuse being that it was dark and raining and half the streetlights weren’t working. ‘Drop you off at your place?’ he asked, deliberately casual.

There was silence for a moment, then Bodie said, ‘OK.’ When they arrived, he asked, ‘Help me up with this lot, will you?’ Then he disappeared upstairs while Doyle found the last of his partner’s luggage, and locked the car. 

When Doyle arrived on the second floor, Bodie’s door was open, though the lights were still off. Doyle could just make out Bodie waiting for him.

‘You want to stay the night,’ Bodie said hoarsely. 

‘No,’ Doyle denied both Bodie and himself. He supposed he’d made that obvious by not bringing any of his own luggage up. ‘Not until you’re ready for it, too.’ 

‘What if I never am?’ 

‘There’s no pressure, you know. We’ve got all the time in the world these days.’ 

‘Now we’re heading for retirement in Rio,’ Bodie agreed sarcastically. 

‘Doesn’t matter anyway. We’ve already got what’s important.’ 

Bodie closed the distance between them. ‘And this would be enough for you?’ he asked in disbelief. ‘What we have now?’ 

Doyle returned his gaze implacably. ‘I could live with this. If I had to.’ 

‘I couldn’t,’ Bodie said, and leant in to kiss Doyle full on the mouth. When Doyle moaned in reaction, reached to pull the man against him, Bodie broke away. ‘Not yet,’ he said. 

Doyle made the effort needed to control his breathing. ‘OK.’

‘Unless you want what we did last night.’ 

‘No.’ And Doyle turned and fled rather than give himself the chance to change his mind. 

♦

Bodie stared balefully at the pile of papers and files on his desk. It was depressing, the number of urgent matters he had to attend to, despite the fact that he and Doyle had had anything important copied to them while they were at the army base. It made Bodie wonder yet again how Cowley had ever run CI5 on his own. Though, when he and Doyle had first proposed the idea of moving into Administration, it seemed Cowley had already been planning on two Assistant Controller positions anyway. You could never spring anything on the Cow. 

As familiar footsteps sounded in the corridor, Bodie sighed, and dutifully picked up the first report. 

The door burst open. ‘Morris and Jack are throwing us a welcome home party,’ Doyle declared. 

Bodie considered this for a moment. ‘There has to be a booby trap in there for the unwary.’ 

‘They wouldn’t dare.’ 

‘True.’ While most of the newer operatives – in fact, anyone recruited in the last ten years – quickly developed a healthy respect for Doyle’s temper and Bodie’s sense of humour, Morris and Jack had been inflicted with the blackest side of both ever since they joined the Squad a year ago. 

‘Come on,’ Doyle said impatiently. ‘They’re waiting for us in Interrogation Room C.’ 

Bodie chuckled. ‘You know what happened last time we held a party down there.’ 

Doyle grinned. ‘This time they invited John James Matthews III along.’ 

‘What?’ Bodie was speechless for a long moment while Doyle nodded confirmation. ‘You mean Morris and Jack, the least promising team since Cain and Abel, actually managed to get something on old Matthews? _And_ actually pulled him in?’ 

‘Yeah…’ Doyle drawled, sounding supremely satisfied. ‘Just in time for us to have the fun of putting the fear of Cowley into him. Nice, isn’t it?’ 

‘Bloody amazing, that’s what it is.’ Bodie followed his partner out of their office and down the hall. ‘And there I was regretting assigning the case to them. About time Morris and Jack came good.’ 

‘They’d want to after all the effort we put in,’ Doyle mused. ‘Good tactic I learnt from the Cow, that – terrify them into shape.’ 

‘Few years ago they would have been out on their ears before they’d even finished the training program.’ 

‘God, you are getting old.’ Doyle hobbled down the stairs with an imaginary walking stick, declaring in a quavering voice, ‘Back in the good old days when CI5 operatives were Real Men and ate villains like Matthews for breakfast…’ 

Laughing, Bodie chased him down to the basement level. But, to Bodie’s surprise, once he’d caught up with Doyle he found himself being manhandled into a dark and deserted Interrogation Room A. 

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Bodie demanded. 

‘What’s it feel like?’ Doyle murmured in reply, hands running around Bodie’s waist before Doyle stepped forward to encase him in a hug.

‘You want everyone to know?’ Bodie asked, but his arms crept around his partner’s shoulders, and he bent to bury his face in Doyle’s neck. ‘It’s nice, this,’ he said. 

‘Yeah,’ Doyle replied. ‘Can’t get enough of you.’ 

Bodie was silent for a long moment. ‘Touched you a lot, haven’t I?’ he reflected. ‘Over the years.’ 

‘I wasn’t complaining.’ 

‘Must mean something.’ Bodie abruptly pulled away from the embrace. ‘Christ, Doyle,’ he asked, sad and angry, ‘what the hell are we doing?’ 

Doyle regarded him. ‘You know what we’re doing.’ 

‘It’s wrong. Something in me keeps telling me it’s wrong. All the time.’ 

‘Just give it a chance. I’m not pushing you.’ 

‘No – _I’m_ pushing me. Can’t get enough of you either.’ 

Doyle gave him a wry smile. ‘Poor sod, you’re tom in two, aren’t you?’ When Bodie dropped his gaze, Doyle said, ‘Let’s go see Matthews. He’s been sweating long enough.’ 

♦

Cowley opened his front door and looked Bodie up and down. ‘It’s amazing what next-door’s cat leaves on my steps.’ 

‘Nice to see you, too, sir.’ 

Almost growling at him, Cowley turned away, leaving the door open. Bodie took that as an invitation to come in. Not everyone who ran the Cow to ground at home was accorded this much welcome, especially not at just on ten at night. Bodie followed his boss through the dim hallway into Cowley’s living room. 

‘And to what do I owe the pleasure?’ the Scot asked as he made his way past his desk. Open files glowed white under the only light in the room. ‘No more gifts, I hope?’ Cowley picked up a jar from the mantelpiece, put on his glasses, and thoughtfully read out the label: ‘Mrs Hamilton’s Grapefruit and Whiskey Breakfast Jelly.’ 

Bodie couldn’t help but grin, remembering Doyle pouncing on it at a shop near the army base, and then handing it to Cowley over his desk that morning with an absolutely straight poker face. ‘Figured you’d appreciate the thought, sir.’ 

‘What a foul thing to do to scotch, Bodie.’ Cowley put the jar down again, eyeing it askance with distaste evident in the set of his mouth. ‘Well, do I take it that this is a social call?’ 

‘Not quite, sir.’ 

‘Do you want a drink?’ 

‘I could do with one,’ Bodie admitted. 

‘Help yourself, then.’ Cowley picked up his own glass from the desk, let Bodie top it up, and brought it over to sit down in an armchair. ‘What is it, lad?’ 

Bodie almost choked on a chuckle. ‘No one but you has called me lad for twenty years.’

‘Sit down and tell me what’s on your mind.’ 

Bodie obeyed the first half of the order, and gulped at the scotch, looking for courage. Now it came to it, he had no idea of what he was going to say, and only a vague understanding of his own motives. He looked up, and faced Cowley’s look of patient exasperation. ‘You once said all I owed you was the truth, sir.’ 

‘That was a few years ago.’ Cowley recalled their first meeting, the qualities he’d glimpsed in the ex-mercenary, the gamble he’d taken on the young man, the trouble Bodie had been in at the time. Cowley had taken a lot of chances in his life, but few had paid off so well. 

‘When Doyle said our trip had been uneventful, that wasn’t quite the truth.’ 

Cowley simply cocked an enquiring eyebrow. 

Deciding that discretion wasn’t necessarily the better part of valour, and glad that his scotch glass was only a quarter full or his hands would have shaken the rest over the carpet, Bodie blurted out, ‘I seem to have fallen in love with Doyle, sir.’

If Bodie had expected Cowley to be shocked, he was disappointed. ‘Go on,’ the older man said, as if Bodie was simply reporting on a routine operation. 

‘He feels the same way. Except he wants to do something about it. And I’m not sure I do.’ 

‘Why are you telling me this?’ 

Bodie chose the most impersonal reason. ‘Potential security risk, sir.’ 

‘Then there’s no risk – no one can blackmail you if I already know about it.’ 

‘They could threaten to tell the Sunday papers.’ 

Cowley shrugged. ‘We’ll fight that one if we ever come to it, and it might not be only the blackmailer we’d be fighting. In the meantime, all I ask is that you be discreet.’ 

‘There might not be anything to be discreet about.’ 

‘That’s your own business.’ 

Bodie seemed dissatisfied. ‘But what do _you_ think about it?’ 

‘Homosexuality? It’s been legal for some time, within certain limits.’ 

‘That’s not what I asked,’ Bodie persisted. 

‘An individual has a right to be gay, and a right not to be persecuted for it.’ 

‘But an older guy like you, with your army background, and religious, too –’ 

Cowley interrupted. ‘You want me to tell you not to continue this relationship with Doyle? To take the decision out of your hands?’ 

Bodie swallowed hard. ‘No.’ Though he now realised that part of him would have welcomed just that. 

‘Then what? You wanted my reaction – but it isn’t what you thought it would be, is it?’ 

‘Sir…’ The younger man trailed off in confusion.

‘You want my advice, three-seven?’ 

‘Yes.’ Bodie clutched at this as if he were drowning. ‘I’ve no one else to ask.’ 

‘Aye, lad.’ Cowley bestowed a small, wry smile on him. ‘And I’ve no one else who asks.’ 

‘Then tell me what to do.’

Cowley let out a laugh. ‘You haven’t given me enough information. Report in detail.’ 

Bodie smirked. ‘A full debriefing?’ he asked whimsically. 

‘Whatever I need to know.’ Cowley waited, but Bodie was silent. After a moment the younger man stood, and generously refilled their glasses, without meeting Cowley’s gaze. Once he’d settled again, the Scot said, ‘Don’t flatter yourself, Bodie – you’re not going to shock me. I can guarantee I’ve heard it all over the years.’ 

‘Your men have turned queer on you before?’ 

‘I’ve had homosexuals working for me,’ Cowley amended. ‘I’ve been talking to my men about it since before you were in nappies.’ 

‘You don’t want to hear it all again then,’ Bodie said flatly. 

Cowley sighed in exasperation. ‘I’ll make an exception in this case,’ he said. ‘Report, three-seven.’ 

Bodie grimaced but at last, with his gaze fixed on his hands, started speaking. ‘Doyle was taking a guilt trip about pulling us out of Operations, first time we ever really talked about it, I guess. And there we were getting mushy on each other before we even knew what was happening. It was easy at first. I wanted it. He was the one fighting it then – didn’t want to lose the last of his precious independence. Then Corbitt caught us holding hands like a pair of bloody teenagers, and called us gay, and that was that. Made me realise what was going on.’

‘And that was?’ Cowley prompted. 

‘The Casanova of CI5 was turning queer.’ 

‘And you didn’t like that?’ 

Bodie looked up at his boss. ‘Would you?’ he asked in disbelief. 

‘This isn’t my report.’ 

‘It’s a degrading thing to be,’ Bodie said as if explaining to a child. ‘It’s wrong, unnatural. I don’t have the first idea how it could have happened to us in the first place.’ 

‘Who told you that it’s wrong?’ 

Bodie shrugged. ‘You name them – parents, friends, teachers at school, officers in the army. Everyone. Society.’ He was silent again, pondering. ‘Was watching the telly the other night, and everything on it – the soaps, the game shows, the movie, even the ads – it’s all straight. I’m not part of that now. It feels like… an operation gone wrong, like everyone knowing you don’t have the edge anymore.’ 

‘Not used to feeling vulnerable, are you?’ 

‘No, sir.’

‘Degrading,’ Cowley repeated, musing. ‘If you made love to Doyle,’ he said, looking directly across at Bodie, ‘would that degrade him?’ 

Bodie felt the blood drain from his face, struck suddenly by a recollection of Ray Doyle stretched naked against him, willingly helpless under Bodie’s worshipping hands, the weird beauty of the man heightened to fever pitch. ‘No,’ Bodie said faintly, dragging himself back to the here and now with difficulty. ‘No.’ 

‘Then why does it degrade you?’ 

The question startled Bodie. He stared hard at Cowley as if expecting some hidden meaning, then shook his head. ‘It’s not me – it’s not _Bodie_. I won’t turn camp,’ he said. ‘I’m not a fairy, or into leather and studs. Or cruising. Or –’ 

‘Anything other than Doyle,’ Cowley observed dryly. ‘That doesn’t change the fact you’re gay, or bisexual at least. You’re thinking in stereotypes, lad – and there’s nothing wrong with someone following their instincts into making such choices. But the majority of homosexuals are what _you’d_ see as ordinary people. Some of your colleagues in CI5 have been gay, and I’d wager you don’t know who.’ 

Bodie let out a humourless laugh. ‘I’d wager you won’t tell me either.’ 

Cowley considered him for a long moment. ‘Yes, it will change you. You’re going to have to come to terms with the fact that you’re gay even if you only ever stay with Doyle.’ After a moment, he added, ‘No one has the right to judge a person by their looks, by their race, by their sexuality, by anything other than their actions and motivations – I thought you’d learned that, Bodie.’

‘And the rest of the world?’ Bodie put in sarcastically. 

‘Won’t make it easy for you. But that won’t be anything new in your life. And you won’t be advertising the fact that you and Doyle are lovers.’ 

‘That’s an order, I suppose.’ 

‘Yes, three-seven.’ 

Bodie sat quietly as Cowley drained the last of his scotch, and then he poured them each another generous nip. After a while he started chuckling. ‘You crafty old bastard,’ Bodie got out eventually. ‘You’re actually _encouraging_ me!’ 

Cowley just sat there, sipping at his scotch. It was a fine, mellow blend, worthy of a little attention. One of his Assistant Controllers seemed to have just got the punchline of the best joke he’d heard in years. 

‘There I was thinking,’ the man spluttered, ‘you’d have me shot at dawn –’

‘Waste of a bullet,’ Cowley observed. 

‘– and what you really want is for me to commit mortal sin with my partner – I don’t believe this.’ Bodie quieted after a while, wiped tears of laughter from his face, was at last serious again. ‘Tell me why, sir.’

Cowley shrugged, got to his feet. ‘How you feel for Doyle – there’s little enough of it in the world.’ 

‘Especially in our line of work,’ Bodie agreed soberly. 

‘So what will you do?’ 

‘Don’t have a choice, do I?’ Bodie stood as well, just a little unsteadily, and wandered over to the window. ‘Admit defeat gracefully. Tum myself in.’ He swung around to face his boss. ‘That’s your advice isn’t it, sir?’

‘No, three-seven,’ Cowley said in his severest tones. ‘My advice is to be the soul of discretion, and to not let it affect your work. Or you’ll have me to answer to.’ 

Bodie grinned. ‘Yes, sir!’ He headed for the front door. ‘Goodnight, sir.’ 

‘Goodnight, lad.’ And Cowley went to lock the door after the man, a smile on his face for just a moment. 

♦

‘What have you been so unbearably smug about?’ Doyle asked impatiently as Bodie launched an offensive against his entree. ‘Come on – you’ve been looking like the cat who got the cream all day.’ 

‘Have I?’ Bodie asked innocently around a mouthful of terrine. 

‘Yeah. Every time I turn around I expect to see you licking the last of it off your whiskers.’ 

Bodie chuckled, and paused in his assault to swallow some of the heavy red wine Doyle had ordered. ‘It’s good, this,’ he announced. 

‘Talk to me, Bodie,’ Doyle ordered in his best no-nonsense voice. 

‘Should be champagne, though.’ 

Doyle sighed, knowing his partner would tell him in his own good time. Starting on his bisque, he eyed Bodie with a small measure of indulgence. ‘We can have champagne with dessert.’

‘Only ’cause you know I’m paying,’ Bodie retorted. He gave Doyle a smile, and turned his attention back to his food. He’d wanted to romance Doyle properly with all the trimmings, but they’d got caught up with the Matthews case, and there had only been time to shower and change before he could drag a protesting Doyle to their usual restaurant. Still, as something caught his eye, Bodie realised he could remedy one omission. 

The young woman with the basket of flowers was in the process of sweeping right past the two men alone at the corner table when she was summarily halted by the dark-haired one. 

‘Not so fast, love,’ he advised her. 

She looked down at the arm stretched across the aisle to the next table, wondering if he’d grab her if she simply tried to push through. However, that didn’t seem to be what he had in mind. ‘You’d like to buy a flower, sir?’

‘l would.’ The man was taking his wallet out, eyeing her mischievously. ‘You shouldn’t be so judgemental, you know.’

‘You’re crazy,’ his companion said, shaking his head. 

‘No,’ the dark one disagreed. ‘You said it yourself once – you never can tell these days.’ He looked up at the woman. ‘How much for that rose? The peach-coloured one.’

‘Six pounds, sir.’

Bodie handed over the money even as Doyle protested the extravagance. ‘It’s all in a good cause,’ Bodie observed. 

‘Yes, sir – the Anti-Cancer Council,’ the woman informed him.

‘That wasn’t what I meant,’ Bodie told her, cocking an eyebrow. She smiled, blushing a little, and fled.

‘What was that all about?’ Doyle asked suspiciously. 

Bodie handed the rose to him with his best smile. ‘You’ve no imagination, sunshine.’ 

‘You mean _you_ haven’t. Attempting to wine and dine me, are you?’

‘Something like that,’ Bodie agreed. 

Ignoring the speculative stares Bodie’s behaviour had drawn, Doyle sniffed inelegantly at the flower. ‘Thought you never had to resort to such obvious ploys.’ 

‘Figured I’d better do it right for once. I can’t, however, promise any original dialogue.’ 

Doyle shook his head again, resigned to the worst. ‘I should humour you, I suppose, or you’ll only end up sulking.’ 

Bodie smiled. ‘I went to see Cowley last night,’ he said.

This apparently irrelevant comment threw Doyle for a moment. ‘You worked back late? No wonder you weren’t answering your phone.’ 

‘I paid him a visit at home.’ 

‘How come?’ 

Bodie took his time polishing off the last of his entree. ‘I told him about us.’ 

‘About us?’ Doyle repeated in a strangled voice. ‘What do you mean?’ 

‘What do you think? I told him I’d fallen for you.’ 

‘Oh Christ.’ Doyle dropped his head, rubbed his face with both hands as if he desperately wanted to wake up. ‘What the hell did you do that for?’ 

Bodie shrugged. ‘He had to know sooner or later.’ 

‘I would have opted for later.’ Doyle looked across at his partner, exasperated. ‘Bodie, we don’t even know – Couldn’t it have kept until we’d sorted this out between ourselves?’ He waited but Bodie didn’t reply – and anyway there was nothing to be done about it now. Doyle sighed. ‘So how did he take it?’ 

‘He was all right.’ 

‘Yeah, well, he didn’t ask me for my resignation when I walked in this morning.’ 

‘You’ll no doubt get a lecture at some point about being the soul of discretion.’ 

‘I’ll look forward to it,’ Doyle muttered. They were silent as their main meal was served, then Doyle said, ‘You realise we’ve probably blown our chances at either of us ever getting Cowley’s job? It’s a political appointment – no one’s going to put a known homosexual in as Controller.’ 

‘Murph or Susan can have it,’ Bodie said, unconcerned. 

‘And if they give it to someone else? That guy from MI6 is sleazing for something.’ 

‘Hopkins? We head for Rio early. No problems.’ 

‘Couldn’t afford it until my pension kicks in at fifty-five.’

Bodie cocked an eyebrow. ‘We can both afford it on my Swiss bank account… If you’ve no moral objections to living in a style you’ll rapidly become accustomed to on my disreputable pre-Cowley earnings.’ 

‘I really wonder about you sometimes,’ Doyle told him. 

Bodie’s smile deepened. ‘Keep ’em guessing, that’s the secret,’ he declared. ‘Then they always come back for second helpings.’ 

‘You’re incorrigible.’ And Doyle refused to respond to Bodie’s good mood. 

♦

‘Maybe the champagne was a mistake,’ Doyle observed as he and Bodie tackled the last flight of stairs up to Doyle’s flat. 

‘Champagne is never a mistake.’ 

‘The chocolate torte.’ 

‘An excellent idea also.’ 

Doyle reached his front door and started working on the locks. He smiled wryly as a hand fitted itself snugly around his left buttock. ‘Must be getting old, then,’ Doyle said as he let them both in. 

‘Old enough,’ Bodie agreed, heading for the sofa. At Doyle’s lifted eyebrow he explained, ‘I’ve invited myself in for coffee.’ 

‘I see,’ Doyle said flatly, but he headed for the kitchen with no further remark. 

Bodie stood again, found the right record to play on the stereo, dimmed the lighting. When Doyle came back in with a laden tray, he took all this in with a longsuffering expression. ‘Cosy,’ he said. Doyle put the tray down on the table, pulled it closer to Bodie. 

‘Come here,’ Bodie ordered, patting the sofa next to him. Doyle sat obediently, and sighed – and, before he could reach to pour the coffee, found himself drawn into a loose embrace. Bodie’s lips met his in a sweet, lingering kiss. ‘That’s for being so patient,’ Bodie said as he pulled away again, leaving Doyle bereft. 

‘Sarcastic sod,’ Doyle muttered, returning his attention to the coffee pot. 

They sat in silence for a while, until Doyle refilled their cups. Then Bodie eased his partner close against him, leaving the coffee to cool by itself. ‘Sweetheart?’ Bodie murmured. 

Doyle lifted his head, let Bodie kiss him gently, let himself be lulled by the man’s warmth. After a timeless comfortable while Doyle said softly, ‘Never knew anyone could cuddle like you.’ 

Tightening his arms around the man, Bodie said, ‘Love you, Ray.’ 

‘Yeah,’ Doyle agreed contentedly. Then he admitted, ‘Tonight’s been nice actually.’ 

Bodie chuckled. ‘It was meant to be.’ He lifted Doyle’s free hand to his lips, kissed the palm, then returned to kissing Doyle’s mouth, fingers entwining. Eventually he moved Doyle’s hand carefully… to find that Bodie’s erection was more than evident through the cloth of his trousers. 

Breaking away, Doyle eyed his partner warily. ‘Bodie…?’ he whispered, hand unmoving. 

Bodie grinned. ‘Magic, isn’t it?’

At a loss, Doyle returned the man’s gaze, unable to frame any of the thousand questions clamouring for his attention. 

‘Thought you’d be glad,’ Bodie said lightly, grin unwavering. Then, eyebrows quirking, his voice dropped conspiratorially, ‘ _Thought_ you’d be ripping my clothes off by now.’ 

‘Why?’ Doyle managed. 

Bodie looked comically startled. ‘Why?’ he repeated. ‘Bit late in the day to be asking that, isn’t it?’ 

Doyle grimaced at him in exasperation. He looked down, caressed Bodie’s cock and balls as if he couldn’t quite believe this was happening. ‘You know what I mean.’ 

‘I’m your only chance – and you’re my last chance.’ 

‘For what?’ 

‘To grab someone to have and to hold before my looks fade.’ 

‘ _Seriously_ , Bodie. I have to know.’ 

‘Because you’re the best – _Aim for the best_ , Corbitt said. He was right.’ 

Doyle just looked sceptical. 

‘Come on, sweetheart,’ Bodie said, smile starting to die a little. ‘Let’s go to bed.’ He added, ‘I even brought my own condoms. Always prepared, even if I never was a boy scout.’ 

‘We’re going to need those, are we?’ Doyle asked doubtfully. 

‘I’m shocked. Don’t you practise Safe Sex, Raymond? You have every time I’ve been around.’ 

‘Of course I do. It’s just, with two guys, you only need them for…’ 

‘Oh Christ, I didn’t mean – I didn’t think.’ 

Doyle laughed. ‘Yeah, I didn’t think we were there yet. Don’t lose heart, sunshine. Come on, tell me what changed your mind.’ 

Bodie removed Doyle’s hand, tucked it around his waist, and gathered the man up close. ‘Does it matter? l want you – I want _us_.’ 

‘And you don’t mind anymore about being gay,’ Doyle said flatly. 

‘I’ll live with it.’ But Bodie seemed increasingly uneasy. 

‘So what made the difference?’ 

Bodie cleared his throat. ‘Cowley said it was all right,’ he admitted. 

‘What?’ 

‘And there I was expecting his hellfire and brimstone turn.’ 

Doyle looked across at his partner. ‘You talked about us with him?’ he asked carefully. 

‘Already told you,’ Bodie said irritably. ‘We got through half a bottle of scotch between us.’

‘I should have realised.’ Doyle nodded. He’d known right from when he’d first met Bodie what Cowley’s opinion meant to his partner, but in this case – ‘I’ve got a lot to thank the old bastard for,’ Doyle said softly. He reached to caress Bodie’s face. ‘So we’re a workable team, are we?’ 

‘Always were, sunshine.’ 

‘Well, then.’ Doyle paused, laughed a little. ‘I feel like a kid on his first date.’ 

‘You’re out of luck – you’ll have to make do with me.’ 

Doyle groaned. ‘As always, your sense of timing is impeccable.’ 

‘So I’ve been told,’ Bodie murmured. ‘Try me out. Put me through my paces.’ 

‘I’m not resisting, officer.’ 

Bodie chuckled. ‘Just so long as you don’t come quietly.’ 

Doyle hit him. 

♦

‘Sweet Jesus, Doyle,’ Bodie exclaimed once he’d shuddered to a halt. 

‘Good, was it?’ Doyle asked smugly. 

‘You know it was, lover.’ Bodie sighed. ‘Well, that settles it – I’m queer. I’m anything I have to be to keep you in my bed.’ 

‘Spoken like a true convert.’ 

‘I’d yell it from the rooftops, but I don’t think Cowley would be overly amused.’ 

‘It’s the thought that counts, sunshine.’ 

‘Yeah.’ Bodie cuddled his partner up close. ‘Till death do us part, mate,’ he whispered. 

And Doyle vowed, ‘Till death do us part.’

♦


End file.
